


caught behind those burning eyes

by grim_lupine



Category: Little Women (2019), Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Possessive Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29772021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: “And how is married life suiting you, my dears?” Jo inquires in an affected, elder sisterly tone when they’re visiting one day, patting Amy’s leg where she sits by her side and twinkling at Laurie lounging loose-limbed on the adjacent sofa like the boy he is no longer.“ ‘Tis a plague and a burden, but I endure it as I must,” Laurie sighs, resting the back of his hand upon his forehead.Amy pinches her lips together to hide the smile she knows he’s after — if she makes him work for it, he will appreciate it more when it comes.“We get along quite well together,” Amy says calmly.
Relationships: Theodore Laurence/Amy March
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79





	caught behind those burning eyes

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to pageleaf for looking over my first fic in like a billion years!!

“And how is married life suiting you, my dears?” Jo inquires in an affected, elder sisterly tone when they’re visiting one day, patting Amy’s leg where she sits by her side and twinkling at Laurie lounging loose-limbed on the adjacent sofa like the boy he is no longer.

“ ‘Tis a plague and a burden, but I endure it as I must,” Laurie sighs, resting the back of his hand upon his forehead.

Amy pinches her lips together to hide the smile she knows he’s after — if she makes him work for it, he will appreciate it more when it comes.

“We get along quite well together,” Amy says calmly.

Her eyes catch Laurie’s and hold, a beat longer than polite. Laurie’s easy gaze fastens and blooms dark.

*

No one asked why, nor teased, nor scolded them over why they had married in such a hurry. They all seemed to understand, or thought they did.

In truth the reasons were varied and muddled, and some were the contributions of Amy’s practical side, and some made her a little ashamed, or rather made her ashamed that she didn’t feel ashamed.

There was propriety, of course; people would talk, with Laurie following her and Aunt March home in such close quarters. There was love, and comfort — Amy had lost a sister, her dearest Beth, and while a sharp-tongued aunt uncomfortable with a girl’s emotions could not be a shoulder to rest her head upon, perhaps a husband could provide that balm to her soul.

And then there was this: she simply burned for Laurie, with everything in her, all her girlish childhood hopes touched with the awareness of womanhood. Her grief over Beth was vast and deep, but when her tears came and went time after time she found that her want roared up in a blaze in its wake, as if reminding her that _she_ was still alive, and in need of his touch to ground her in place.

Laurie had kissed her eight separate times now, whenever they had managed to evade Aunt March — Amy had counted — but this time he put his hand on her lower back and drew her in closer than he had dared before. Amy threw her arms around his neck and dizzied herself in his fever-hot mouth, pulse tripping wildly. She felt half as if she might faint. Laurie tore his mouth away from her with a ragged inhale, kissed the curve of her cheek, the tip of her nose, the sensitive blushing skin of her neck, and when she couldn’t help the little quivering sigh that escaped her, his hands tightened reflexively on her waist and he pulled away once more.

“I must go, before I lose my sense entirely, ” Laurie said, determined, agonized hunger in his voice.

“Marry me,” Amy said. “Marry me now.” 

She meant it, but hadn’t quite meant to say it. Her faint apprehension burned away before the slow sunrise joy in Laurie’s face.

“You deserve a better wedding than I could give you here, my love,” Laurie said, cupping her face in one hand.

“I deserve _you_ ,” Amy told him. “Marry me, Laurie.”

Laurie's smile curled his mouth slow and sweet. “I am my lady’s to command.”

Hurried and simple and empty of family as their wedding was, it was sweet nonetheless; and no one who saw the bridegroom kiss the palm of his bride’s hand and the tips of her fingers and her rose-pink flush in response doubted the future happiness of their union. As for their wedded nights, only Amy and Laurie could judge, and for Amy’s part she had no complaints whatsoever. During the day she would remember the sweet lush heat of Laurie’s mouth on her skin, the strong clasp of his hands, the way their bodies curled together like they had been made to fit; and she would come back to herself to find her lips parted faintly and color rising in her face, her husband looking at her with a hungry, knowing gleam in his eye. And so by the time Amy reached home with Laurie at her side and never to leave, she felt herself a wife in full and glad for it, and found the sentiment echoed tenfold in those dear persons who loved her.




*

“Proper little Amy,” Jo laughs, throwing her head back. “I hope your poor husband at least has heard better words from you than that!”

Amy sits upright, half-offended though she knows she’s being provoked; but Jo puts an arm around her and soothes her back down, and even as she feels the slight pout curling her mouth Amy takes a moment to appreciate how far they’ve come since the bristling spats of their childhood. 

“I’m teasing, you goose,” Jo says, tweaking her nose. “Teddy is positively radiant these days, I can only conclude you have his care well in hand.”

“I am sure he’s well aware of how I feel about him,” Amy says, mollified and a little pleased by Jo’s assessment. Then she turns to Laurie, who is still watching her; without quite meaning to, her voice slides low as she says, “Aren’t you, my lord?”

*

There had always been a little devil inside Amy she couldn’t fully exorcise. Conscious, painstaking effort had molded her into a better version of herself; but the willful nature of her youth, greedy for Laurie’s attention, could not be forgotten entirely, it seemed. 

“Mrs. Laurence, you look wonderful this evening,” said the young man with the fair hair (oh, what was his name? Amy usually had a better head for this) as he bent to kiss her hand. It was perfectly proper — he had addressed her by her married name, after all — but it was evident in his face he admired her. He held her hand for a second too long. Amy let him. 

She looked at Laurie. His smile was charming and casual; his eyes dark flame. Amy felt a little thrill run through her. 

“Thank you,” Amy said graciously. She was gracious all evening; made light and airy conversation with everyone, smiled her sweet dazzling smile, and if heads were turned, well — she couldn’t help it, could she? And after all, didn’t she return time and again to her husband’s side? 

Laurie put his arm around Amy’s waist and kissed her hair. “Little minx,” he said, so low only she could hear him. 

Amy turned her head into his chest, the picture of a shy young wife. “My lord,” she said in his ear, and heard the throaty quality of her own voice. “Won’t you take your wife home?” 

He did. Amy kept her eyes down during the carriage ride home, and stole glances up at Laurie through her eyelashes; every time she did he squeezed her leg just above her knee, and she bit her lip against the warm flush that rolled through her in response. 

At the door Laurie took the coat off her and hung it up. His every motion was snapping with restrained animation, and Amy drank in the sight of him greedily. Never, never, never would she become accustomed to the depth of this wanting; nor did she care how wanton it made her. 

Laurie took her by the hand and led her to their room, careful and controlled until they were behind closed doors. 

And then Laurie had Amy up against the door, his mouth parting hers with ferocity, hands tugging at her meticulously pinned hair until it came loose around her shoulders for him to clutch in his fist. When he pulled slightly Amy let out a sharp gasp into his mouth; he must have heard in her voice that the noise was no objection, as he did it again while he put his mouth on her neck, nipping tender little bites down the curve of it. 

Amy clutched the back of Laurie’s head, fingers slipping into the silky black curls. His tongue teased at the tops of her breasts, and he tugged the neckline of her dress down so he could delve lower.

“Laurie,” Amy said, and the plea in her voice was enough. 

Laurie had her on the bed within moments, bare and blushing; he caught her looking at him where he was straining at the front of his trousers, and he took the dark wicked curl of his mouth down her body until she was gasping at the firm, relentless working of his tongue between her legs. He came up wet-mouthed and panting and she shivered all over at the sight of him. “My wife,” he said, and Amy said “ _Yes_ ,” throwing her head back as he drove his fingers inside her. “My girl,” Laurie said, “aren’t you?” And Amy said in a hitching, gasping voice, “Yes, Laurie — _yes_ ,” as she broke apart against his mouth, thighs trembling and fingers twisting in the sheets below her. 

Laurie took her from behind in their bed with a ferocity that soothed the old, girlish yearning within her, the shadow-throb of jealousy she had nearly managed to grind to dust. He took her so deep that it ached within, sweetly; had Amy trembling on the edge of pulling away or pushing back into him. Palms hot and fingers tight around her hips, he wanted her; one hand sliding up to cup and squeeze the weight of her breast, he wanted _her_ ; the sharp nip of his teeth on her neck and the wet pull of his mouth leaving a bruise, he wanted her he wanted her he wanted no one else to want her, _oh_ — 

“My love,” Laurie panted in her ear, “tell me — ”

“I’ve only ever been yours,” Amy managed to get out in a voice choked thick with emotion, with the fire of their want; and her husband came apart like all that had held him together was the waiting for her words.




*

Amy’s lashes fall and lift in a slow fan drag, milk-mild and innocent.

Laurie’s tongue slips out briefly to wet his lips. The haze of shared memory tremors like a plucked string between them. Then he pulls a look of affected woe over it, says, “I was once upon a time, but oh! Art, that cruel mistress, has left me sadly neglected and replaced in my wife’s affections of late.”

Amy makes an indignant noise and glares at him; and Jo snorts and says, “Neglected, Teddy? With Amy and her _my lord_ s to cosset you and pet you all day — ?”

*

Proper little Amy went down upon her knees with her cheek on her husband’s bare thigh. She murmured up at him, “What is it you want, my lord?”

A coy flash of her eyes caught the slow bob of Laurie’s throat as he swallowed, the ticking muscle of his clenched-teeth jaw.

“Your mouth, sweet girl,” he said hoarsely, touching it briefly with two fingers. So she obliged him; parted the soft bow of her lips over the tip of his length and laved it with her tongue until he let out a sharp breath and caught her hair in his hands. Before her marriage, Amy never would have thought she’d like this particular act so much, nor would she have guessed what a curious sense of power it would give her. The clench of Laurie’s fist in her hair was a tell of his helpless want; the low gasping breath that left him as she took him further made her thrill and tease him for more. With Laurie she could be wanton, a commanding queen on her knees, a demure wife; she could be anything she wished at any time she wished it, and he would take it all with gladness. He would cup her face and say her name like tasting music; he would tremble and release in her mouth like he couldn’t do anything but. He would draw her to her feet afterward and kiss her so sweetly she thought she might cry.

When she brushed the hair from his damp forehead with tender fingers he would look at her like _he_ was the lucky one, and never hear a word against it.




*

The open collar of Laurie’s shirt exposes his quick-beating pulse. His fingers drum rapidly against his thigh, eyes promising worlds. Amy is glass-smooth, practised at taking in much and giving away little. 

“ — But I suppose I must see you two off then, if you are in such dire need of her company,” Jo finishes, and laughingly ignores their protests to draw them up and shoo them away, claiming a need for some time for her own writing as well. Laurie kisses Jo’s cheek and heads for the door, whistling a jaunty little tune as he goes. Jo catches Amy by the arm before she goes, and meets Amy’s inquisitive glance with an odd knowing look of her own, suppressed amusement quivering in the corners of her mouth.

“Marriage _does_ suit you, little sister,” Jo says, and winks.

Amy blushes scarlet all the way home.


End file.
